Chapter 1: After Years Apart

"I can't do this."

"You have to. There are people looking to you for guidance."

"I do not think I should be the one they should turn to."

"If not you, who else is there?"

"You could do it. You could lead the people."

An amused snort. "Surely you jest. Me? Why would anyone with enough sense follow a king who has not yet been crowned?"

"Perhaps not, but you are still a king."

"Only in name. My coronation will not take place for some time. Besides, only the Sindar of Greenwood will follow me, because I am their prince. There is no reason for the Noldor to. I am not their king." Silence passed between them for a moment. "You cannot give up. You must live."

"Why?"

"To lead the people."

"That is not a suitable answer."

"Then I cannot answer your question. But you must. You will be needed in the future, I can feel it. People look to you for guidance; they seek you for your wisdom. Will you forsake everything that those who have been lost have worked to create, to protect? Will you fail them now that they are gone?"

He thought on the matter, knowing the reasoning was true. "I still say it should be you they should follow."

"And I say you are wrong."

"Why are you helping me? I thought you hated me."

"Why should I hate you?"

"Your father hated me." An uncomfortable silence settled between them. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"Nay, it is all right." Another long pause. "Aye, he did hate you; he hated all Noldor because of Fëanor's oath. But I am not my father. I don't hate you. I'll pretend to hate you if you would prefer..."

"It would help keep up pretenses."

"We have to pretend we don't like each other?"

"It would be rather suspicious if we didn't."

"It's going to be difficult to do so."

"But we must. For the sake of our people, if not for ourselves. Not everyone thinks the way you do about things."

"You are right, as always. So be it then: I shall pretend to hate you in the manner and reason of my father, and you will attempt to pretend to sway me from the hate. But if you ever need me, don't hesitate to call. I'll come without fail, Elrond."

"Hannon le, Thranduil."

~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was shining brightly through the canopy of tree leaves as the party from Mirkwood journeyed closer to the valley dwelling of the Lord Elrond Peredhel. Thranduil couldn't remember the last time he had visited Imladris; it had been a very long time indeed. The elves of Mirkwood did not get along well with the elves of Imladris. Relations with the Galadhrim were slightly easier, but a little more strained than they would normally have been otherwise, partially due to the marriage that had occurred between the Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond. The Sindar of Mirkwood held the Noldor in contempt for what took place at Alqualondë so many years ago; even after all the time that had passed, relations at present were little better.

Thranduil, in all outward appearances, seemed to dislike the Noldor the most; in his heart, however, such a fact was untrue. Most of the Noldor left in Middle-earth, he knew, were related to those present at Alqualondë, but they themselves had not been present. He had come to the conclusion at a young age that holding one accountable for their forefather's actions was unjust. It was an ideal he had instilled in his four children, and they of all Mirkwood knew how deeply he respected, even loved, the elves of the valley. For Thranduil knew that the Sindar alone could not have won the war against the Dark Lord had they been the only ones of the Firstborn opposed to their rule. The King of Mirkwood had also seen the love between one of the Teler for that of a Noldo, and their child had been a great joy and blessing to the world. Thranduil was rather looking forward to seeing Lindir during his visit. But the nature of the call was not as pleasant as the riding party would have liked. Word had come to them of Lady Celebrían's sailing into the West after a band of Orcs assaulted her party. Thranduil, in the company of two of his sons, had decided to ride to Imladris and offer aid to Elrond in whatever form he could. The notion came as a shock to much of Mirkwood, but the King had said that the visit would be a formal rather than a social affair; it would not have done well for the lord of one elven realm not to offer his condolences to one another. His sons and daughter knew better. Celeron, second of Thranduil's children, prided himself on being able to 'read his father like a book'. He had insisted on staying behind to watch Mirkwood and protect it in his father's absence; Thranduil's only daughter, Nimriel, had also requested to stay. Arondil, the first born, and Legolas had decided to accompany their father on the journey. Legolas, who had never traveled to Imladris before, was looking forwards to the stay, for he wished to become acquainted with the elves there. He was more like Thranduil in physical form and manner than any of his other siblings; the King could see that Legolas would do great deeds during his lifetime. "We are nearing the valley, my Lord," a sentry announced. "Shall I ride ahead and inform the border patrols of our coming?" "Please do so," Thranduil said with a nod. "Arondil, go with them."

"Aye, Ada," Arondil replied, spurring his horse forward before he, the sentry and two others disappeared through the trees, leaving Legolas with their father and the rest of their party, which consisted of ten guardsmen.

"Ada," Legolas called quietly as he rode close to his father's side. "You announced that this would not be a social call on your part. But it is, isn't it?"

"You are quite perceptive, Legolas," Thranduil replied in a hushed whisper, his words for his son's ears only. "I respected Elrond greatly during the Last Alliance. He sent a secret letter of condolence and sympathy when your mother died. I feel I owe him the same."

"But why the personal call?"

"That I am not quite sure of, myself."

Legolas gazed at his father for a long moment before turning back to watch the path. He alone of his siblings suspected that there was more than friendship between the Lords of Mirkwood and Imladris--at least on his own father's part. The young prince was not at all acquainted with the inhabitants of the valley, save for Lindir, who often journeyed to perform at Thranduil's bidding, and Erestor, who acted as ambassador; therefore he could not draw a conclusion on what the elves of the valley were like. He was aware, however, of the important members of the House of Elrond, though he had never met most of them. There was Elrond himself, who ruled the valley; Glorfindel, the seneschal; Erestor, the chief advisor; Lindir, the head minstrel; and Elrond's children, the Lady Arwen and her brothers, the twins Elladan and Elrohir.

"You love him, don't you, Ada?" Thranduil seemed to stiffen at his words, but the son did not turn to the father. Silently Legolas waited for his father to speak as they continued on their journey.

"I did, once," Thranduil replied quietly, staring down at the reins in his hands. "I might still but I am unsure. It's been so long since I've seen Elrond. And then your mother...I did love her, Legolas. I..."

"There is no need to explain, Ada," Legolas said, cutting off his father. "I--we--know you loved Nana. We saw the love you felt for one another in your eyes. You do not have to justify your heart to me, or my brothers and sister. We love you, Ada, and we would never question your loyalties."

"But..."

"*Ada*."

Thranduil felt like cringing at the reprimanding tone that edged his youngest son's voice. Slowly, he turned to Legolas and found a somewhat stern look upon the younger elf's face. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he felt like an elfling again as he waited for his son to speak.

"We know how much you love Nana," Legolas began. "We know you loved her dearly, and grieved much when she passed. But that was a long time ago. You deserve to love again after all these years. I know the marriage vows you shared cannot be broken, and that you will always be bound to her. But try, Ada, try to open your heart to someone else. You've been so lonely, and it pains me to see you so."

"I am not lonely, Legolas. I have you and your brothers and sister to keep me company."

"Aye, 'tis true that we are there for you and would do anything for you. But you are still lonely, whether you realize it or not. Please try to love again, for our sakes."

Thranduil sighed, reaching over to cup his son's hand in his own. "When did you become so wise, Legolas? Who taught you to speak such sagely words?"

The younger elf grinned, squeezing his father's slender hand. "I have had a lot of practice in diplomacy."

"Weaseling your way out of punishment, I presume?"

"Never! Wherever did you ever come up with such an idea?" But the grin stayed upon his face, even widening just a touch. The young prince tried not to laugh when Thranduil wrinkled his nose as if smelling something amiss. Legolas was about to speak and tease his father when Arondil returned with Glorfindel. He found himself nearly holding his breath at the sight of the Elda, whom he had heard a great deal about in tales and songs. Glorfindel seemed to Legolas to be more stunning and radiant in person than any words could convey; the Elda did indeed command one's attention when they were in his presence.

"King Thranduil," the golden-haired seneschal of Imladris said as he rode closer to the King, bowing his head in greeting and respect. "'Tis good of you to come and pay our valley home a visit."

"It is kind of you to meet me on the way, Lord Glorfindel," Thranduil greeted in reply, inclining his own head. There was a slight edge to his voice when he spoke, an edge which the guards took as a deep-seated loathing. The young princes, on the other hand, exchanged knowing glances but said nothing; they were able to easily read the relief in Glorfindel's azure eyes at the sight of an old friend.

"Come, I shall lead you to the valley. I've sent a sentry ahead to notify Erestor and Lady Arwen on your coming."

Thranduil merely nodded in reply, finding it difficult to keep a stern composure before his guards. He hadn't seen Glorfindel since they parted ways after the return from Mordor. The King had missed the nightly councils they sometimes shared, relating stories of their homelands or, in Glorfindel's case, past lives and loves. Thranduil dearly wanted to spend time in the Elda's company again, but such moments would have to be in private or in the company of his sons alone.

The Last Homely House had changed greatly since the Last Alliance. Thranduil hardly recognized the house of Elrond as he approached it. The image of Imladris impressed upon his mind was of a valley next to the cascading Bruinen filled with tents and half-finished stables and homes. The construction of the valley dwelling had only just begun when Thranduil had last been to visit. Now, it was a serene place full of color and life, the homes intricately built in the elegant and graceful manner of the elves. It differed greatly from the cave stronghold and telain of Mirkwood, but it still felt like home even to a visitor.

Arondil and Legolas rode on either side of their father, the elder brother riding silently whilst he observed his surroundings. The younger sibling, however, found it difficult to contain his wonder and excitement as he entered such a mysterious place, a haven he had only heard about in messages sent to his father. Legolas wondered what other secrets of the valley he would discover during his stay there; he could just imagine Celeron and Nimriel's envious faces upon his return since they, like him, had never been to Imladris. Arondil, Legolas mused, had been the lucky one; being the eldest, he had often been sent as ambassador to the valley on behalf of Thranduil.

"King Thranduil, 'tis wonderful to see you have journeyed safely to our valley," a familiar voice said as the riding party stopped before the front steps of the house of the Lord of Imladris. Erestor gave the party a deep bow, smiling in greeting. Behind him stood a young woman, her hair dark and her gray eyes bright. "Sire," Erestor said, turning to the woman, who took a step forward and curtseyed politely to the Woodland King, "May I present the Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond."

"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, my Lord," Arwen said with a kind smile. She turned to Arondil and Legolas, curtseying to them as well. The pair of princes bowed their heads in greeting.

"I thank you for greeting my party, my Lady," Thranduil replied with a nod of his head; he dismounted, followed shortly by his sons and the rest of his party. "My sons, Arondil and Legolas."

"Are Prince Celeron and Princess Nimriel still in Mirkwood, my Lord?" Glorfindel inquired after advising the stable hands to attend to the horses.

"Aye, they are. Celeron wished to watch over my kingdom whilst I was away, and Nimriel indicated that she would remain to keep him company."

"I dearly would have liked to meet with the princess," Arwen said. "I have heard that she is a delight to be with. I wish that she could have accompanied you on your journey, my Lord."

Thranduil smiled at her words. He too had heard tales of the beauty that was the daughter of Elrond, and the valiant deeds that were his sons. "My daughter expressed a wish that she could have visited Imladris, but decided to stay in Mirkwood. I shall relate to her your kind words when I return, Lady Arwen."

"Then I shall look forward to meeting her one day, my Lord."

"My Lord," Erestor politely interrupted. "May I show you to your quarters? The journey from Mirkwood must have been tiring."

"Nay, it was not so exhausting, Erestor. But aye, I would like to rest a bit before meeting with your lord." Thranduil worried over Elrond's state, remembering well how he had been after his own wife died. If it hadn't been for his children, the King was not entirely sure what would have happened to him. Judging by the sorrowful look in Arwen's eyes, Thranduil guessed that Elrond's children were doing the best they could, but it was not nearly enough. He would have to do something, even if that meant dissolving all the pretenses he had built up over the years.

Quietly, the party of Mirkwood followed Erestor through the halls of the house of Elrond, unaware of the other members of the house lingering around corners and catching glimpses of them.

---

Chapter 2: A Flutter of Hearts
Elladan wasn't sure how much more of everything he could take. The eldest son of Elrond had spent a good portion of the morning trying to coax his father into eating a substantial amount of breakfast; in the end, he had only succeeded in getting Elrond to swallow some nibbles of cheese. He missed his Nana--they all did--but Elladan didn't want to lose his Ada as well. Elven grief was taking its toll on the lord of Imladris.

"Gwanur?"

He stopped and turned, staring into the face identical to his own. Elrohir looked worried at seeing the still full tray of food in Elladan's hands. The elder twin sighed and shook his head. "He wouldn't touch anything."

"It's getting worse by the day," Elrohir murmured. "We're losing him. I don't want to see Ada go."

"Nor do I, gwanur." Balancing the silver tray on one hand, Elladan folded an arm around his brother, bestowing him with an affectionate hug in an attempt to ease both of their hearts. For a while they were unaware of the movement at the other end of the corridor in which they stood, until Erestor's voice rose and echoed down the hallway.

"Elves of Mirkwood," Elrohir remarked upon seeing the green and brown garb of the elves. He pulled away gently from his twin as they gazed upon the party. "I did not realize they would be visiting."

"I remember Erestor and Glorfindel discussing something about them. They must have just arrived." The eldest twin peered down the corridor, making out the faces of his sister and his father's councilor and seneschal. With them were a dozen Sindar and Silvan elves, their light colored hair glimmering in the light that streamed through the arching windows. Elladan was able to pick out King Thranduil by the crown of leaves upon his brow. "'Tis strange," he said quietly to his brother. "King Thranduil does not seem to me as haughty as the stories tell of him."

"Aye, I have noticed it too. He seems rather kind when one looks at him. I do sense a touch of arrogance, but it seems out of place."

Elladan nodded, moving on from the King to observe another elf. His gray eyes fell upon Arondil, who stood never to his father absorbing everything that was said and all that he saw.

"The Prince Arondil, Mirkwood's eldest prince. And that must be Legolas."

"How do you know, gwanur? You have never met them before."

Elrohir shrugged casually. "I remember Ada once saying that the Crown Prince and the youngest prince resembled Thranduil the most; Prince Celeron and Princess Nimriel are supposed to look more like their mother."

"Indeed." Elladan allowed his storm-colored eyes to roam over the princes. Arondil was much like his father in stature and poise; he would make a fine king one day. And Legolas...Elladan fancied his heart skipped at beat when he gazed upon the youngest prince. Legolas was fair, so fair in some aspects; he had his father's features, but a natural grace that differed from Thranduil's. The eldest twin found himself staring until Elrohir nudged him.

"Stop staring," the younger twin practically hissed. "They're coming this way."

Shaking himself back to the present, Elladan noticed Erestor strolling over to where the twins were standing, followed closely by their sister, Glorfindel and the guests. He inclined his head politely along with Elrohir when the group came to a standstill before the pair.

"King Thranduil," Erestor said, turning to Thranduil whilst gesturing to the twins, one after another. "May I present Lord Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir."

"'Tis a pleasure to finally meet you, Sire," Elrohir greeted before giving a more elaborate bow. He could feel the King's eyes roaming over both his person and that of his twin, trying to decipher one from the other.

"I hope you will find Imladris as pleasing as your home in Mirkwood, my Lord," Elladan said, drawing Thranduil's attention to him.

"It is quite different," Arondil replied, choosing to speak for his father. "The open air is not as stifling as the caves can sometimes be. And it is rather refreshing to hear the sounds of the Bruinen so close. Do you not think so, Legolas?"

"Aye, 'tis a pleasure indeed."

Elladan swallowed convulsively when the youngest prince turned to him. He had the distinct feeling that the sapphire blue eyes were staring through him rather than at him, and it was rather unsettling. However, he kept his gaze steady and returned Legolas' stare, fancying that the young prince even gave him a faint smile in return.

Engrossed in such a manner, Elladan nearly missed Erestor and Glorfindel's identical frowns when both glimpsed the seemingly brimming tray of food in his hands. Neither said anything, which Elladan was grateful for; he did not yet know if it was entirely appropriate to discuss his father's physical state before the newly arrived King of Mirkwood and his sons.

"Come, Sire," Glorfindel said. "Let us show you to your chambers so that you may rest."

"If it pleases you, Ada," Legolas said. "I would like to walk the grounds for a time. I wish to visit as much of the valley as I am able before we are due to return to Mirkwood."

"As you wish," Thranduil replied with a nod of his head. Inwardly he smiled, pleased that his son was taking an interest in the elves of the valley.

"Elladan will show you the way around the grounds," Elrohir said, volunteering his brother. Before his twin could utter a word in protest, Elrohir had taken the tray from his hands and had given Elladan a slight shove forwards. He saw as did Arwen, judging from the twinkle in his sister's eyes, that the eldest child of Elrond had taken a particular interest in Legolas. And this was the best opportunity to have the pair get to know one another.

Elladan was speechless due to his brother's actions and the azure eyes that were now fixed upon him. He swallowed thickly before inclining his head to Legolas. "Let us start with the gardens then," he said, indicating the direction before motioning for the prince to follow him. Legolas did so, following the eldest twin out of the house and into one of the surrounding gardens.

"Come, King Thranduil," Erestor said, leading the way down in the opposite direction once the pair had departed. "I shall take you to see Lord Elrond after you have rested sufficiently."

"Thank you, Erestor," Thranduil replied, following the advisor whilst the others went about their own duties for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas felt rather nervous whilst he and Elladan left the house and began to walk around the grounds. He felt drawn to the eldest son of Elrond without really knowing why; Elladan and Elrohir were nearly perfect copies of one another, both with dark hair and brilliant storm gray eyes. So why was it that Legolas felt at ease around Elrohir, whilst Elladan made him feel nervous and unsure of himself? So lost in thought was he that Legolas nearly bumped into Elladan, not realizing the Peredhel had stopped walking and was now staring at a patch of small yellow flowers.

"Elanor..." Elladan murmured, both his voice and eyes filling with sadness.

"Flowers of Lothlórien," Legolas replied.

"Nana brought them back once. She used to sing when she watered them. Some days she and Arwen would pick a few to place around the house."

Legolas felt his heart breaking at the immense sadness filling the twin's voice. Spying a stone bench, he took Elladan by the arm, steering the twin towards the seat. The young prince sat next to his companion, a hand upon a slender shoulder for support.

"Forgive me," Elladan murmured, staring down at his lap. "I did not mean to..."

"There is no need to apologize," Legolas interrupted. "I know how you are feeling. I remember well what it is like to feel the pain that comes from losing someone you love." He sighed, tilting his head to gaze up at the clear blue sky above them. "I remember the day my own Nana passed. I miss her terribly at times, but the pain has lessened with time. I worry more for my father, however; there has always seemed to be an emptiness inside him since the day she left."

"I know my father is suffering; I see it in his eyes. I don't want to lose him as well." Elladan squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away. He had cried enough already and didn't want to cry anymore, but his emotions were raging. In the end, unable to help himself, Elladan allowed the tears to flow freely down his face. He welcomed the comfort Legolas offered as the Woodland Prince gathered the mourning Peredhel into his arms.

"Hush now, meldir," Legolas whispered, rocking the twin lightly. He remembered the nights one of his brothers would offer him the same comfort after his mother's passing; other nights when he had to comfort Nimriel. And then there were the nights all four siblings would retire to their father's chambers to watch him sleep and chase away the dreams when they came. Legolas understood well the hurt Elladan was suffering and freely offered his comfort through gentle touches and kind words. "Let it flow, meldir. Let it out; only then can you heal."

"Hannon le," Elladan murmured into the fabric of Legolas' tunic as he hid his face in the prince's shoulder. Neither spoke again for some time as they allowed the sun to caress them, whilst seeking solace and comfort in one another's presence.

Elladan briefly marveled at the fact that he had allowed a prince of Mirkwood, someone known to be proud and revered among his people, to see him weep like an elfling. But he brushed the thought aside as he wrapped his arms around the lithe form next to him and wept. He felt Legolas pull him closer, softly humming a child's lullaby to help calm him. Elladan forgot the world around him as, for only Valar know how many times, he mourned for the loss of his mother.

---

Chapter 3: Sorrow's Embrace

Though he had been somewhat reluctant, the Woodland King had followed Erestor's advice and taken some rest after his journey. A short bath and a change of clothes later, followed by a light meal a servant had brought, the King had allowed himself an hour of rest in which he did nothing save for lying upon the bed and staring at the ceiling. Now that he felt refreshed, Thranduil had decided it was time he sought out his old friend.

He had spent a time wandering the halls of Imladris before actually going to meet with Elrond. Thranduil thought much about the time after which his own wife had died; the pain and the loss. He understood well what the Peredhel was going through, but Thranduil wondered if Elrond would listen to him. It had taken a long time for the King's children to pull him back from the brink of entering Mandos' Halls; Thranduil only hoped that he could do the same for Elrond.

Thranduil thought of the distraught looks he had seen in the twins' eyes, especially Elladan's. The King guessed the eldest son had just been to see his father, and was not pleased with the results. Surely Elrond would not think of leaving his children in the world without a single parent? Though his own children were grown and quite capable of taking care of themselves without his supervision, Thranduil could not imagine what it would be like if he were not with them. He enjoyed watching his children, took pride in his sons and cherished his daughter. Did Elrond not feel the same? If he did, why was he now intent on leaving them for the Silent Halls? The Woodland King decided he had to find a way to keep Elrond on Arda, whatever the costs. It was dark, even with the last of the sunlight shining through, when Thranduil finally managed to enter Elrond's bedchamber sometime in the early evening. The room was exactly as Thranduil had pictured it to be: spacious, neat, airy and full of books. He smiled at the memories of seeing Elrond reading whenever he walked into the Peredhel's tent; the dark head would be bent over whatever book or scroll he had in hand, gray eyes darting left and right wildly as Elrond sought to take in every word before him. They were fond memories, but Thranduil now found himself frowning as he stepped further into the room. Huddled in a corner on the floor, oblivious to the King's entrance, was Elrond. He gazed absentmindedly out of the window next to him. His dark hair was clean and brushed, though unbraided, his robes equally clean if not a little wrinkled, his skin more pale than Thranduil remembered. The lord of the valley looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and eaten less than what most would have thought acceptable. Elrond seemed to be in a daze with a slightly distant look in his eyes; shifting slightly, he laid his head upon his knees until Thranduil could no longer see his face. The little patch of sunlight that managed to shimmer in through the window and past the curtains warmed the Peredhel's skin and set off his hair in a fiery glow, but he didn't seem to notice or care. "Elrond?" Thranduil called quietly whilst stepping closer. He knelt in front of Elrond, but the other elf didn't seem to react to his presence. "Elrond? Meldir?"

"Why are you here, Thranduil?" Elrond murmured without looking up. He kept his gaze fixed on something outside even as he addressed the other elven ruler.

"I came to see you."

"Whatever for?"

"I promised you, didn't I? In all these years, have you forgotten the words I spoke when we were last in each other's company? I promised you I would come if you needed me. All you had to do was call and I would have come."

"I didn't call for you." Slowly, Elrond lifted his head and fixed a haunted gaze upon the Woodland King. "I didn't send for you to come, so why are you here?"

Thranduil involuntarily held his breath at the pained look Elrond held in his eyes. They were haunted, anguish-filled with the loss of someone he cared about dearly. The King was reminded of when he had lost his own wife and the nights of torment; the only comfort that came of that time was the love of his children. Gently, he gathered Elrond's hands in his without much resistance from the Peredhel. "Whether you called me or not," Thranduil began, "I am here now. And I'm not going anywhere until I see that you are well."

"I am well, Thranduil," Elrond protested. "There is no need for you to stay, nor was there any need for you to come."

"Nay, you are not well, meldir. You are fading, and I will not lose you to the sorrow that is in your heart. You have three beautiful children who are still with you, who love you and will not see you leave them before your time. You cannot leave them, Elrond."

"They are grown, they do not need me."

"You are wrong. They still need you, grown or not." Tugging on the all-too-thin hands, Thranduil managed to pull Elrond into a gentle embrace. He held on tightly even as the other elf struggled; eventually Elrond quieted and allowed for the Woodland King to hold him, though he made no move to return the gesture. "The loss in your heart is great," Thranduil whispered, stroking the dark hair. "I know this, I've felt it myself. But you cannot allow yourself to give in to sorrow. Live, Elrond. You must live."

Hot tears began to spill down Elrond's sallow cheeks at the words being whispered so tenderly into his ears. Before he knew what was happening, Elrond found himself clinging to Thranduil, burying his face into the King's emerald velvet tunic. "I-I don't know h-how a-anymore," he sobbed, his voice muffled by the plush fabric that was now becoming increasingly damp with his salt tears. "She w-was my best f-friend, the m-mother of m-my children. I w-was with her f-for so long. H-how do I l-let go of all t-that?"

"Not easily, meldir. Not easily at all. Believe me, I know the pain of your heart. But you must let go; Celebrían would not want you to suffer so."

"Help me...please..."

Thranduil nodded, pulling Elrond even closer as he held the Peredhel tightly. "I will be here for as long as you need me."

Elrond merely sighed, his tears continuing to flow in silver streams down his cheeks. He barely heard the whispered words of comfort Thranduil spoke into his ear or the gentle rocking motion the King began. All he could focus on was his wife, now gone, and the children he would have to continue watching over alone. His children...Thranduil was right, he couldn't leave them. But Elrond didn't know how to ignore the ache in his chest long enough to focus on them and go on. It hurt to lose yet another he had cared so deeply about. "Please stay with me," he murmured into Thranduil's tunic without even realizing he had spoken.

The muffled words startled Thranduil slightly; sapphire eyes blinked in the fading light. Had Thranduil heard right? Instead of voicing his questions, the King merely gave Elrond a firm squeeze. In silence they stayed in one another's arms as the sun dipped lower before disappearing beneath the horizon.

~~~~~~~~~~
Neither elven lord noticed the pair of gray eyes watching them from where the door stood ajar. Elrohir observed the Mirkwood King and his father closely; he could clearly see the close bond of friendship they shared. The young Peredhel had heard many stories of the supposed hatred that was shared between them, but he had had a difficult time believing his father could hold someone in such cold contempt. Watching them now, Elrohir knew all the tales he had heard had been fabricated, but he did not know why.

"It is not polite to spy on others, pen-neth," a voice said from Elrohir's right.

The twin jumped, startled, before turning to face Erestor, who was gazing at him with a somewhat disapproving look. "I wasn't spying," Elrohir replied in a soft voice.

"Then, pray tell, what are you doing hovering outside your father's door and staring inside with the door just barely open?"

"What do you know about King Thranduil, Erestor?"

The question caught the counselor off-guard. Of course he, as well as Glorfindel and Lindir, were well aware of the friendship Thranduil and Elrond shared. He speculated that the King's children also knew of the bond, but Erestor was aware of the fact that none of Elrond's children had been told the truth of the matter. Perhaps now was the time. "King Thranduil is not as the rumors tell him to be."

"That I can see clearly. So then why do the rumors say such? Why do they say that Ada and King Thranduil hold one another in such contempt if they aren't true?"

Sighing softly, Erestor took hold of Elrohir's arm and steered them both away from the door, shutting it quietly after him. He led the twin to the library, motioning for Elrohir to claim a seat before Erestor took one for himself. For a few moments there was nothing but silence as the counselor gazed out of the window and the twin fidgeted with a sleeve. "It's all for pretenses," Erestor finally said.

"Pretenses?" Elrohir's eyes were filled with questions as he looked up at Erestor, who returned his gazed with an unwavering gray-blue stare. "Why would there be need for pretenses?"

"You know of the Kinslayings, pen-neth. Even now, after all these years, some of the Sindar hold the Noldor in contempt though the ones who participated are gone from this world. Oropher, Thranduil's father, was one of those people. In all outward appearances, Thranduil was much like his father. However, Thranduil, then a prince, had befriended Elrond, who he saw as an intellectual and an elf who had suffered much loss in his life.
"You see," Erestor continued, "Thranduil and Elrond had met during the Last Alliance. By then, Elros had already passed from the world and it was well known to many from who Elrond was descended. Knowing that Elrond had family ties to the sons of Fingolfin, who had been present at the Kinslayings, had hardened Oropher's heart to him. But Thranduil was of a different mind; he did not believe in blaming one for the past actions of a person's ancestors. As far as Thranduil was concerned, Elrond was innocent of those crimes and did not deserve to be hated for crimes at which he was not even present."

"Why, then, did King Thranduil not try to make his father see the error of his reasoning?"

"Who says he did not? Thranduil tried, but Oropher would not listen. In the end, Thranduil gave up, but kept his friendship to Elrond a secret from his father. They agreed to keep everything hidden from others, especially those of the Sindar who felt the same as Oropher. Few knew of the masks of hatred and contempt they both wore when each spoke of the other. Glorfindel and I knew, of course, as did Lindir who secretly carried messages between them."

"Messages?"

"Thranduil was in love with your father during that time, pen-neth." He could have been a little more tactful, but Erestor felt that the young Peredhel needed to know about his father's history.

Elrohir sat still, flabbergasted by the news. The Woodland King had been in love with Elrond? That was quite a bit of shocking revelation to be handed with so soon after his mother had just left,. But Elrohir found that it did not bother him so much, and that all the pieces of the mystery that might have arisen surrounding Thranduil's visit were falling into place. "Did Ada..."

"Know?" Erestor shook his head. "Perhaps he did, but I am unaware of such. Gil-galad and Elrond had been lovers before the Last Alliance; but the love between them had waned a little after Elrond founded Imladris. And shortly after the battle in which Sauron was defeated, both Thranduil and Elrond married others."

The Peredhel sat silently, trying to digest the information Erestor had just related to him. It was shocking to discover that there was nothing but friendship between the elven lords all this time, at least on Elrond's part. Even Elrohir, as perhaps his siblings and most of Imladris, had been led to believe that Elrond did not like Thranduil in the slightest. He wondered if Thranduil's children knew of the charade or were also oblivious. "Do you think," Elrohir mused aloud, "that the King might still love Ada?"

"I do not know," Erestor replied. "But whether he still does or not, Thranduil may be one of our last chances to keep Elrond on this earth with us. He was present when Gil-galad died; Elrond was distraught at that time, but somehow Thranduil managed to keep him with us. I do not know what he did or what he said, but perhaps he can do it again. Thranduil is not what the tales make him out to be. Yes, he can be arrogant at times, but he takes a great deal of pride in his accomplishments and has great love for his people. But he is also kind and just, judging others only when he has received a clear glimpse of their character." Erestor reached over, lightly squeezing one of Elrohir's hands for reassurance. "Trust him, pen-neth. He will not let your father leave us without a fight."

Elrohir nodded, smiling slightly. "I believe you, Erestor. And I will put my trust in King Thranduil. If he can keep Ada here with us, I will be eternally grateful to him." He gave a brighter smile, to which Erestor gave one of his own. The pair spent the rest of the evening discussing other things until the chimes sounded the time to gather for the evening meal.

TBC...

*Images borrowed with permission from Takano of AS-Line; please do not reproduce or distribute.

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